chapter 8: staring at the ceiling
AN: First off, last weekend we hit 100 reviews! Whoot! Thank you so much to everyone! The spot of beta has been taken by Numisma, thank yous to her, and everyone who volunteered. Um, I guess I should thank my mum as well (sweatdrop) because she helps me with blood and gore knowledge, though I won't let her read this.
Disclaimer: Rumiko I am not.o
So beautiful she is.
Under me. Struggling. My hand holds her there; I can feel her collarbone through the wrinkles on her shirt. So fragile, she is. But she struggles, she cries out.
She says she hates me.
Hate me, Kagura.
Thick black bangs fall over her forehead, into her strawberry eyes, so fierce. Sex embodied is how I see her. Just looking at her, her glare gives me a thrill. Her lips, hiding a damp tongue, lash out words a mouth like hers should not say.
And beautiful she is, as I run my hands over her stomach, feeling her muscles tighten, and she bends, trying to get away.
And fragile she is, though she will not break, thrashing and clawing at my arms. She refuses, refuses to let me in.
And sex embodied, she is to me, red lips, lightly tanned skin, so smooth. Her memory lives on in me and will never die. I drink it all, bittersweet.
So beautiful she is.
o
The icing is white and pure on the cake. The sickly sweet aroma curls around me, tempting me. I don't see why it tries. It won't work.
I'm going insane.
"Nishino-san!" An elderly face pokes in the doorway, grinning. "How are those cupcakes coming?"
"Finished."
I wipe icing smudges from my fingers, observing my work. Whoever gets these cupcakes better appreciate them. I'm not getting paid ten dollars an hour for nothing. It's actually a bit harder than I had imagined, when you're baking many things at once. I've taken to posting sticky notes on the wall, and taking them down only when I'm finished. In an hour, I've managed to ice twenty-four cupcakes, and my cookies should be done very soon... among other things.
In case you're extremely dim-witted, you've probably noticed I've taken up working in a bakery. It's really not so bad. It's not a low-level job, like working in a grocery store; you actually need some skill to work here. Here. In a bakery. My, how am I going to explain this to Kagura?
Kagura...
I can just hear her, cackling away. 'The great Sesshou-maru, baking cookies for children! Lord of the cream puffs!'
But will she even be there when I get home...?
I dismiss these thoughts, walking over to the cupboard to get more icing. The old woman takes the cupcakes, heading out into the storefront. I can hear the bell on the door ring as a group of chatting females enter. I decide to ignore them, ignore just about everything for that matter. Ignore that I'm working in a bakery, of all places... ignore that Kagura might not be home...
The one thought I keep with me is that Kagura would have the decency to tell me if she were running off with her ex-fiancé. But I doubt she would anyways. After all, she rejected him. She left him one morning, with his money and without goodbye. But why had she lied to me...
She has her reasons. As I have mine.
I make up my mind to make a few extra chocolate éclairs to bring home to her. I know she likes them.
o
The air smells of rape, and I can barely stomach it. Not that that matters, because there's nothing in my stomach. A piece of toast can only give a person so much energy. I hope Sesshou-maru is doing better than me. Trust me, kids, eat your breakfast. Oh God...
The sheets are cold against my skin. I tilt back my head as I shiver, trying not to think. Which is basically impossible. Something always comes up.
How much I hate where I am... how much I hate why I'm here...
Even stupid things, like memories I'd thought I'd lost. Like when I was ten, and I went to my friend's birthday party. I gave her... a doll, I think. It was a bride. And she looked so lovely, wrapped in crude pink wrapping paper, soft white material cradling her. I was so proud of myself for wrapping it. I remember my father picked me up... he was mad, because I spilled soda on my dress. He stayed mad, all the car ride home, with Kanna sitting quiet in the back seat, and he was still mad when we got home...
Dammit, he's everywhere to me! What will it take to get rid of the bastard?
What if what Hitomi says is true...?
I should just accept it, is that it? Marry him, and have his protection. Marry him, and have a big house, and lots of cash. A whole world, just one word away. It scares me, how large and endless, yet how tiny it is. All that in one word.
Yes.
I could say that, and I would embrace him, and it would all be over.
Just the thought...
Never. I haven't come this far to succumb. I will not...
I've let him already.
He dragged me, kicking and screaming, to his bedroom, neat and perfect. I knocked over a chair on the way, hearing it clang against the floor. I reached for things, tried to throw him off-balance, and nearly succeeded. But then, he was pushing me back onto the mattress, whispering things he knew I would remember. He let his hands travel all over me, as I threw out my limbs, trying to get him away, yelling till my throat felt raw. I figured someone would hear, someone would be able to help me.
I guess I was wrong.
He forced off my clothing, violently. I think my thigh is bruising from when it hit the bed frame in an effort to get away. I hate being so weak. Helpless. I'm not supposed to be that way.
At first he was just toying with me. He touched me with his tongue, watching me squirm, protest. His eyes opened wide, and I delivered a solid kick to his face, but he came back before I could make much of the advantage, pushing me down hard.
The struggle lasted for a while; how long, I'm not sure. Maybe he got bored, but maybe he knew I was giving in. It was as if a large weight were resting on my heart, and slowly, it was being crushed. I couldn't hold it up anymore, and I was sandwiched under it, between the weight and the ground. My legs stopped kicking, my arms went limp. But my heart beat faster and faster, as he came...
It hurt more than I could've imagined. My head pounded, so hard I could barely breathe, barely see. It felt like I was going to split in two, or into many pieces. But I kept silent. That small part of me would not give him the satisfaction. He can have my body. He can have my fucking body. He will not have my soul. He cannot have my heart. They belong to me, and will remain in my control.
I shut my eyes and pretend.
Maybe it would've mattered more to me if I were a virgin. Virginity I tossed out the window at age fourteen. I figured my father would go after that sooner or later, that things would get worse. So I decided not to let him have it. I started partying, getting wasted and stoned beyond limits I thought my body could handle. I experimented with anything I came across. I was slowly buying death, and I knew it.
Fuck you, life.
Fuck you, everyone.
The aftertaste of the assault is bitter; my body still reels. His breath on my neck, his hands on me, holding me down. There was nothing I could do...
What now?
My body feels used and beaten; I won't be going anywhere for a while. I hear Hitomi shuffling around in the kitchen. The clock sitting on the dresser is too far away for me to read and ticks noisily. It's been a while since I left this morning, I know that. Sesshou-maru was going to his job, so we don't starve or get kicked out of the apartment. And here I am. I lied to him. Stupid me. Fucking stupid me.
I don't want to be here anymore...
I let the world go out of focus, burying my head into the pillow, stiff and wrinkled and cool on my face. This is all too much for me. It's my fault; why did I come here? Why did I think I could get rid of him so easily, by myself? He probably knew I would come, too... what if... my father...
I don't want to think about it.
Blackness seeps in, pulling me away, away. The city outside is alive, and time moves on through, life runs so quickly by me. I could die here, and I'd be gone. People might remember me for a while, but they would die too, eventually, and no one would know me at all. Any photographs would be thrown out, or kept merely for historical reference, but no one would know me. Know what happened to me.
Fucking stupid me...
o
I run my fingers over the spines of the books, packed so tightly on the shelves, as I walk through the rows. The library is so quiet it's like I'm walking through a photograph. I love this place. Maybe because I come here so often, since Mama runs it and all. Maybe because I read so much it feels like a home. I guess I read a lot for my age. More than my friends, anyways. I'm twelve, but sometimes, people treat us like we're only five. Especially Mama.
Mama is always so concerned. 'Do up your jacket, Kagome', or 'Don't forget your bag, Kagome'. It gives me a headache sometimes! Really! I'm old enough to babysit Souta, who's only six. Mama even looks at the books I check out before I read them. She says she doesn't want me to be 'corrupted'.
How silly.
My friend Yuka is reading an adult book, and her mom doesn't care. Yuka let me read some of it at recess a few days ago, and the people in it were having sex. Mama probably thinks I don't even know what that is, but I do. Everyone my age does. Eri told us about a girl her sister told her about, who did it for the first time when she was just fourteen. I wouldn't.
It kinda scares me, the thought of doing things like that. No boy has ever seen me naked, besides doctors, or Grandpa when I was just little. And I don't know what I would do if I got pregnant. So I'm not. Simple as that. Besides, it seems gross...
But that's not all. Mama is always scared I'm going to be offered drugs. I haven't, not yet. I'm not sure what that's like though. In the movies, people get really spaced out and act like everything is fine. So drugs are like lies. They make you think and see things that aren't there. So people that use drugs must not like things the way they are. They use drugs to let the world lie to them.
A girl sits in the Young Adult section, her eyes darting over the page. I wonder if she was doing drugs... I walked past her before, and her eyes were very red. She seemed a little dazed too. I'm not going to ask her, though; that's stupid. Duh, even I wouldn't do that.
She's kinda creepy looking, though. Her hair is lighter than bleach blonde, but it doesn't look fake. Her skin is really pale, so you can see her veins lightly through it, especially on her hands. Maybe she's meeting her friends here... but I doubt it. She looks unhappy...
Maybe she just needs someone to cheer her up. Everyone has bad days sometimes.
I gather all my courage together into my chest and step out from behind the bookshelf. I browse the Young Adult section before choosing a decent looking book and sitting down on the opposite end of the couch of the girl. She doesn't even look up. How strange she is.
I pretend to read for a while, sneaking glances at her. I wonder why she doesn't just sign out that book and read it at home. Maybe she doesn't have a home. No, of course she does; her coat looks expensive and new. I bet she just doesn't want to go home.
"Hi!" I say, maybe a little too loudly, because it sounds like a scream compared to the silence. She looks up after a few seconds, her black eyes staring at me, so deep and blank.
"Hi." She bows her head, and I smile.
"What are you reading there?" She lifts her book so I can see the cover, and then puts it back onto her lap. Bram Stoker's 'Dracula'. It looks like it's been here forever, the pages all brown and ripped.
"I haven't read that one," I say, glad she isn't ignoring me like some people do. "Is it any good?"
"Mm-hm," she murmurs, shyly.
"Do you come here a lot?" I ask. "I haven't seen you before."
"Sometimes..." Her voice lowers, so I can barely hear it, and her eyes look away.
"Did you have a fight with your mom or something, so you came here?" I slap a hand over my mouth after saying this, realizing how stupid I am. "Oh, sorry!"
"It's fine..." she whispers. "But you're right... it wasn't my mom though. I don't have... a mom."
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" I exclaim. Great, now what've I done!
"No, it's not like that," she says in her soft, whispery voice. "I was adopted, so I never knew her."
"I see."
She bows her head, running a finger over the side of the book. The paper makes a wispy noise against her flesh as she shifts her weight.
"I had a sister... a few sisters and brothers... but most of them left. We just moved here, a while ago. Hasn't been long."
"Oh, really? Are you going to the junior high near here then?" I ask, shuffling a little closer. She smiles just a little at this.
"No. I'm in high school."
I nod, embarrassed. This girl is so strange. I can't really figure out anything about her. She doesn't look that much older than me either... How weird.
Finally, she gets up and heads for the desk. Meiko checks out her book, because Mama is on the phone, ordering new books in. As the girl heads out the door, she waves to me. I wave back, still confuzzled (which is like being confused and puzzled, which, believe it or not, are different feelings).
Crap! I forgot to ask her what her name is! Doesn't matter, I guess. I doubt I'll ever see her again. People come and go like that. You could see someone on the street, and years later they could be a movie star, but you wouldn't know that. There are so many people in this city... I'm just one small girl.
o
It's cold... my jacket... where's my jacket?
Damn...
I lift my head, my surroundings mocking me. Same damn place as when I fell asleep. Or passed out. Doesn't matter.
But it looks like late afternoon. I lift my body, suddenly aware of the fact I don't have any clothes on. Hiding under the sheet, I look around for my things, which are strewn carelessly on the floor. That bastard; who does he think he is? I wonder if he would go as far as to put cameras in here. I wouldn't doubt he's thought of it. He's probably had other girls in here, by force or not.
Who has been here... in the exact same bed as me... screaming like I have...?
Trying not to think about that, or anything, I sit up, pain shooting up my back. Groaning slightly, I slip off the bed and fall to the ground, clutching my side. I yelp, but Hitomi ignores it, if he's even here. At least I haven't been tied up or anything. Doesn't matter. It still hurts like hell.
Rape is a four letter word. Four letters, that are supposed to describe all that. Rape should be a longer word. Rape shouldn't be a word at all!
My head feels fuzzy, and it throbs, as I reach for my bra. At least the blinds of the window leading to the balcony are down. That's a relief. The door is probably locked, though. Oh yeah, because it's so easy to escape his apartment, when he's twice as strong as me and probably has a few guns lying around here.
Wait... he might have one in here!
No, he would've taken it away. Damn! This is such bullshit! He might have one somewhere else, though.
Ugh, I shouldn't be thinking so much. Best to take this one step at a time. First? Get the shitty clasp on my bra done up. I glare at it, trying to hook it up. It's not exactly working though...
And if I do get out of here, I am going to kill Hitomi. Or at least castrate him.
But that's the me that still thinks I'm winning talking.
o
Bitterly, I put the bag on the kitchen counter, heading to the bedroom just in case. Just to check.
I am a fool. Kagura is not here, of course.
No answering machine message. No note.
Maybe I should give her some time. She needed to settle things, things I have no business in. I have no right at all to be angry with her. Even if she lied...
Kagura.
A girl that fell into my life because she looked hungry. Because I had some spare change and knew I could afford a bit of lunch for her. Because... why was I so drawn to her? Why did I tolerate her for so long, before it became enjoying her presence?
Why don't I have answers?
This is getting me nowhere. Already, it's four o clock. I leave the bedroom, turning off the light. No, she's not home. The door was locked still, from when I left earlier. She almost always leaves it open.
I flex my fingers, hearing my knuckles crack. I'll save the éclairs for when she gets back. They aren't my type of food anyway.
The pale light of the computer screen lights my desk as words pour out of my fingers and appear on the page.
Even if she lied...
o
Ceilings are only fascinating for the first fifteen minutes.
I lie on the bed, which is in a different place from what it had been when I first woke up. Actually, I rearranged everything in my destructive spree of earlier. Once I had dressed, which proved rather painful, I discovered I lacked my purse. No weapons. No way to protect myself.
After pacing around and discovering that everyone in this building is a jackass (if you scream for help, they turn up the TV and tell you to shut up. So helpful!), I started to destroy things. I hope he didn't like that dresser. The drawers have been pulled out, the majority of his belongings, clothes, papers, scattered everywhere. There's a dent in the wall from it.
And now all I've got is the ceiling to entertain myself with. Which, as was previously stated, has lost any appeal it once had. But I'm worn from pacing and kicking at the door. Hitomi is smarter than I gave him credit for. There's no way to lock the door from the outside, so he removed the pin inside the doorknob. I'm stuck here. I'm like a caged animal or something. A spectacle. A doll, sitting on the shelf.
I am no one's doll.
His keys clink loudly against a surface, his boots loud across the floor. I guess he's home. I haul myself to sit, looking around. There's not even hangers in his closet. I could've used those to gouge out his eyes. I could've thrown shoes at him, but like most guys, he has need of only a pair or two, which are by the door. And I'm not trying my luck with making a rope out of clothing. Ten floors. There're no balconies under this one. And I'm not jumping. I'm not giving up so quickly. That way, he'd win.
I will not let him break me, I won't, I won't.
'I do believe in fairies, I do, I do!'
Peter Pan... I read Kanna that story, when she was just a kid. She was the best reader in her class, and I was the one that helped her. I think she was better than me by the time I was in grade seven, and she was just in grade three. Bright kid. Always had her nose in a book. She didn't talk much. She didn't retaliate against our 'father', so she was okay most of the time. Most of the time. But she has her own battle wounds. If I saw her now, would I even recognize her, this girl I called my sister?
Sister. Calling her that is a lie. My whole childhood was a lie. The person I was, who I thought I was... didn't even exist. Or did she? I shouldn't be thinking about this right now...
I hang my legs over the side of the bed, staring at the wall, also rather boring in shades of blue. The footsteps of my captor approach. He seems to be enjoying playing the bad guy. Oh yes, I'm going to die of boredom here. I shouldn't be joking about it... all afternoon is a long time if you're doing nothing, and it's already getting dark. The lights of the city shine in through the curtain, my only light.
"Are you awake?" he says in a low voice, as if afraid of disturbing me.
I snort. "No shit, Sherlock."
"Still bitter..." He chuckles. "You are a tough one."
Bastard.
I hear him fumble with something, and the door opens, just a crack, before he steps in. He stands by it, observing the room.
"My, what a mess you've made," he mumbles. I refuse to look at him. I stare at the wall, and in my peripheral vision I see him watching my face through the dresser mirror.
"Are you hungry?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. Mirror-Hitomi is distorted and rather fat. I remain amused as I answer.
"No."
Liar.
He throws my jacket to me. It lands on the bed, beside me, but I don't touch it. He's all over it, his smell, like he's all over me. Inside me.
"You must be cold, Kagura."
"Not at all."
Liar.
He shuts the door behind him. I turn to the mirror, looking at myself. I stare back at me. Worn and tired, made of shadow. Only city light, alighting parts of me I hate.
I look like my father. Not too much. But my eyes are his. The way I turn my head at a sound is similar to his. These little things... I can't get rid of. Unless I were to kill myself. But that would just be me. He'd still be there, laughing.
I put on my jacket, wishing I had my coat, the one I left at the library. It is rather cold. I let in October air earlier by going out onto the balcony. It was too stuffy in the room. I needed to get the smell out. My stomach quakes again, reminding me I haven't eaten all frickin' day. It's beginning to affect me, light-headedness closing in.
But I'm okay.
Liar.
I look at myself in the mirror for so long my face starts to distort. It twists, things growing prominent, less noticeable, until I'm someone I barely recognize. It's me... I can't deny it, but I don't like her. Not just physically... the scars are evident, in her eyes, one peeking out from the neckline of her T-shirt, my T-shirt. I don't like this person. I don't want to be this person. I want to be somewhere else. I want to be someone I can like myself for being.
Not this person.
The image moves with me, like a coloured shadow, but in my state, it's like a whole different person, moving on their own. I know it's just my eyes in the dark though, just my own self growing insane. Hitomi is still going about his business. I think he's made a few phone calls. I didn't hear my name... then again, I'm kind of out of it... really out of it... reminds me of things that happened quite a few years ago.
Hallucinations... I won't lie, I've been an addict. I've been so into acid the normal world seems grey and blah in comparison. It was beautiful. I remember once, taking my pocket mirror and cracking it, and looking at myself.
Cracked and beautiful.
Wait...
I sit up, wincing and groaning, and make my way over to the window. I part the curtains, running my hands over the cold, clean glass that separates me from everyone else. Night has settled over everything. Neon lights blare, loud, and people move, as if they don't need sleep. Cars honking, engines roaring, the lull of a crowd. The world never sleeps.
Emptying everything out of a drawer, I ignore my mirror self as I head over to the window. I bend my knees, steadying myself for the force of the impact coming back on me. The first hit is just for practice, slow and careful. The second is just a small bump, to make sure. Then I twist my body around, lifting my arms high, and swing the heavy wooden drawer into the window, hard as I can muster. A slight crack. So again, I turn my body around, pushing all my strength into the swing.
The window shatters.
But I've knocked myself off balance, slipping and feeling myself plunge forwards, the drawer coming out of my hands, and slamming into the wall. I'm able to break most of the fall with my hands and forearms, but the ground is covered in shards of glass. Some blood trickles from my forehead into my eye as the frozen air blows in, blanketing me. My skin prickles, the hair standing on end. I push myself up, yelping as the tiny daggers bite into me like a thousand bee stings.
Surely Hitomi's noticed...
My eyes search the balcony for what I need, and it's easily found. I wipe the glass carefully from my hands, picking at the shards under my skin. There are more, on my arms and front. I realize how stupid this is, but it's my last chance now. I'm going through with it. My blood stains the large translucent piece, tinting the world I see through it scarlet.
I've seen blood before. Blood from when I fell off the swings as a kid. Blood in my underwear, when I was twelve. Blood dripping from my nose and lips, fourteen. Blood staining Kanna's beautiful light hair. Blood, leaking from a bullet wound to the head, as my father smirks at me.
I pretend it won't be the first time I've had to draw someone else's blood.
Liar.